


The Justice of Vengeance

by Phxreign



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Bootlegging, Dark Jon Snow, Dark Sansa, Everyone is in a crime syndicate, F/M, Gang Violence, Murder, Organized Crime, Possessive Jon Snow, Sex, Some angst, Turf wars, Violence, but in Westeros, like just a tiny amount, mentions of domestic abuse, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 11:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15290490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phxreign/pseuds/Phxreign
Summary: If you had asked Jon when he was a young boy what kind of life he would lead, he never would have guessed it would be this one. He doubted anyone else would have guessed it either. Because anyone with half a mind would never think that a bastard boy from one of the poorest neighborhoods in the north would someday grow up to be the head of one of the most powerful criminal outfits in Westeros.





	The Justice of Vengeance

**Author's Note:**

> So here's my entry for the Dark Jon Event. I'm not sure how dark it is. I mean he's definitely darker than I normally write him, (he's very murdery) but there's also a hint of angst there. (Because I can't not write angst it appears. I'm weak, I'm sorry.) Sansa's also a bit darker in this than my normal Sansa. 
> 
> So for the nuts and bolts of this then: Robb and Sansa are the only Stark children. All the major players in GOT are now crime families/gangs fighting for power and territory in 1920's Prohibition Westeros. "Thar a Bhalla" is Gaelic for "beyond the wall" (it sounded cooler than calling a country "beyond the wall") 
> 
> I did very light research on the 20's and the St Valentine's Day Massacre, so I claim no historical accuracy/probability in any way shape or form. 
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful r people that thought of and put on this event! So with out further ado, enjoy!

“Do you like it?” Sansa asked as she twirled around in a little blue silk and lace number.

Jon looked over the top of the papers he was reviewing. “Would you really care if I said no?” Jon asked with a devilish grin.

“Not particularly, no,” she answered as she pulled on a matching silk robe. A few moments later she removed the papers from his grip and slid into his lap. She bit her lower lip as she snapped one of his suspender straps and looked at him expectantly.

“You’re in a rather playful mood,” he murmured running one of his hands into her hair and pulling her head back so he could run his lips down the column of her neck. She gave a soft moan in response.

“I don’t think I know what you’re talking about,” she said in a rather dismissive tone as she let her robe fall open and down one shoulder.

“You’re a naughty little liar. Are you trying to get yourself into trouble?”

“Not at all. I just thought we should celebrate.” She licked her lips and gave him a rather heated look.

“It’s still a bit early for that love. You don’t want to jinx us now, do you?”

“Never. Just consider it a kiss good for luck then.” She kissed him and ran her tongue over the seam of his mouth. He broke the kiss and pulled her hair just a little bit harder. She let a soft moan escape her lips. He kissed up her neck again. As he was about to capture her lips once more, there was a knock at the door and it was immediately pushed open.

He released his grip on Sansa’s hair. She pulled the robe closed but did not leave his lap. “Jesus, Theon! Can’t you wait for an answer?” he growled.

“Sorry,” he said with a small smirk. “But you were very clear that I was supposed to tell you as soon as we had confirmation they were on their way. In fact, you specifically threatened to break my nose if I didn’t.”

“You don’t need to quote me back to me,” he said, his annoyance clear. “Make sure the others are ready. I’ll be right there.” Theon nodded and backed out into the hallway.

“Sorry doll,” he said to Sansa, brushing her hair back from her shoulder and planting a kiss there.

“Nothing to be sorry about. That’s far more important than my pleasure.”

“Nothing is more important to me than that,” he muttered as he nipped her ear. She giggled and shook her head playfully.

“Jon! If we’re going to do this tonight, we need to be moving,” Davos’ call came from the hall. He was the only one in the crew that would ever dare to speak to him like that.

“Go,” Sansa said getting up and tying her robe closed.

“One more for even better luck,” he said and then kissed her a final time. She smiled and told him she’d be waiting for his return. He gave her a final nod as he grabbed his holster belt and gun off the back of the door and made his way into the hall.

xxxxxx

He sat staring out the window of the truck as they headed for Gulltown. Not for the first time, he wondered if it was fate or luck that had gotten him to this point in his life. He wondered which one would carry him through tonight.

When he was very small, his mother had worked for the Stark family as a housekeeper and cook. More often than not he had accompanied her to their estate, Winterfell. Like most young boys, he had a hard time sitting still and staying out of her way. When he became too much, she would tell him to go play in the small yard behind the kitchen, near the chickens and compost. Eventually he had attracted the attention of the Stark’s son, Robb. By the time there were six years old they had become the best of friends.

Early on Robb became insistent that Jon be allowed to go anywhere on the estate that he could. As a result, a whole new world had been opened up to Jon. It didn’t take long for him to go from an unnoticed, borderline street urchin, to a boy with access to some of the most powerful people in all of Westros.

Of course at the time he did not fully understand that. All he knew was that Robb was his best friend, Ned and Catelyn Stark were very kind, and they all seemed to like to him well enough. They never seemed to mind the boys running around the house playing cops and robbers or hide and seek. Sometimes though when Ned had important people over, they were banished outside for hours at a time. Those were the days when Robb’s younger sister, Sansa, would try to follow them around on their adventures. They didn’t like when she tried to play with them. She could rarely keep up, and often wanted to change their game to house or tea party. Those were the days Robb would tell her scary stories to send her running back to their mother or nanny. Sansa liked to remind him that she still had dreams about the ghosts that lived in secret tunnels under Winterfell at least once or twice a year.

Jon enjoyed those early years. But now looking back he sometimes felt a sense of regret. He had nearly abandoned his mother in favor of spending time with the Starks. Like any young boy he far preferred the company of his friend and staying over at his fancy house, to spending time with his mother in their tiny dingy apartment. His mother never said anything about it though. He liked to believe she was happy he had the opportunity to experience the life she could never offer him, but some days he did wonder how much it had broken her heart all the same.

Shortly after Jon turned ten, his mother suddenly took ill and passed away. He had been terrified at the thought that he would be sent to live in an orphanage. Thankfully, and he would always be grateful for this, the Starks had stepped up and taken him in. Overnight he went from being dirt poor, living in a two-room apartment in a rundown tenement, to having his own room in the huge house that sat on the Stark estate.

If he were to die tonight, he knew that it would be that decision that had been the beginning of his end. Because when Ned and Catelyn agreed to take him in, they were making the decision to accept him as one of their own. That meant that there would be no secrets from him. Furthermore, he would be expected to be loyal and do his part for the family when the time came.

Three years would pass before that was fully explained to him though. In the meantime, he and Robb enjoyed the last of their childhood. They spent time fishing and hunting in the forest near the estate. Sometimes they even enjoyed playing “knights and maidens” with Sansa and the girls from next door. He missed his mother sometimes, but he also reveled in his new wealth and status. He very much liked being part of the elite, being someone that people took notice of and respected on sight.

When he and Robb were old enough, Ned decided it was time they began to truly understand where all their wealth, status and respect came from. “Privilege comes with a price,” Ned had explained. It was then Jon began to learn that the Starks had a darker side to them.

Prohibition had been declared in Westeros nearly twenty years ago, years before the boys had been born. The Starks, already heavily in control of powerful positions with in the government of the north, had seen an opportunity to use prohibition to their advantage. Their location allowed them easy access to the alcohol that was still freely brewed in Thar a Bhalla, the country above Westeros’ northern border. Even better than access though, was that their position meant that they also controlled all the roads to transport it. The Starks quickly became the premier bootleggers and rum runners in all of Westeros.

The boys had been blissfully unaware of this for much of their youths because their parents had gone to great lengths to hide the truth from them. Catelyn had insisted that her children were to know nothing of the family business until they were old enough to understand it. Jon could still remember how he had felt when the truth had been revealed. It had been a bit of an adrenaline rush, and suddenly certain memories made a lot more sense. Memories of closed doors and raised voices, of doctors leaving with bloody sheets, their parents insistence that they spend nearly all their time within the walls of Winterfell. He and Robb had felt a bit foolish at first. How could they have been completely unaware of the turf wars fought between their family and others looking to take control of the flow and distribution of the smuggled alcohol? Ned always reassured them it was by design.

The last major turf war had actually been settled shortly before Jon had come to live with the Starks. It had ended when the Starks and Greyjoys had decided to stop fighting each other and instead declare an alliance. The alliance essentially consolidated all control of both the road and water access to the far northern alcohol within the two syndicates.

There was little the Southern outfits could do at the time. They were weaker, more fractured. Each just clawing to maintain the small area that they had carved out. To make enemies of the Seawolves, as the outfit came to be called, meant certain doom. Either they would straight up have you killed as an example, or they would cut off your supply and allow one of the other outfits to over run your area.

And so the southern syndicates had no choice but to fall in line. Not that they were pleased about it. Years of fire and blood couldn’t just be so quickly forgotten. Resentment and jealousy were still common place. And occasionally there were flare up of violence that had to be quickly crushed.

When the boys were fourteen Ned decided it was time for them to actually get involved in the operations. They started to go on runs with Ned, Benjen and some of the other men in the operation. Jon liked going with Ned or Benjen. He disliked any time he had to go with Ned’s third in command, Petyr Baelish. He was Robb’s uncle by marriage and a childhood friend of Catelyn’s. But none of that mattered to Jon, there was something about the man that always rubbed him the wrong way. He constantly felt like Petyr was up to something, something that was not good for the Starks. He still regretted he never said anything, because years later he would come to understand how right his instincts had been.

Those initial training runs were how they had met Theon. He was around their age, the son of Balon Greyjoy, head of the Sea portion of the Seawolves. They all quickly became good friends. Ned had been pleased to see this. He had known that one day it would be Robb and Theon who would be responsible for carrying on the alliance. Jon believed it gave him peace of mind to think the transition would be smooth.

Perhaps though Ned had let that vision of the future cloud his judgement. The Seawolves seemed to relax a bit. They still controlled the supply of alcohol to the south, but they had slowly started to let their oversight of the area grow more relaxed.

As a result, when the boys were sixteen, another turf war broke out. The Lannisters had been patiently waiting. They had spent six years slowly killing and swallowing up some of the other southern syndicates. When Ned finally noticed what was happening he decided to cut off distribution to them. He had hoped the loss of goods would slow their spread of power.

It didn’t work. The Lannisters had consolidated quite a bit of power by then. They decided it was time to lead a southern rebellion against the Seawolves. And so they decided they would start by making a play to seize control of some of the shipping lanes between White Harbor and Hardhome. Balon was killed in one of their first offensives, his body and most of his crew’s washing up on the coast near Widow’s Watch.

The boys were immediately sent to the front lines, quickly learning to sail and battle on open water. Jon could still clearly remember all the nights at sea he had spent with Theon and Robb. How Theon had taught them to navigate by the stars, and to sail through tricky waterways without any light. They became very proficient at boarding ships without being seen. And how to silently kill an entire boat crew and set the ship on fire before anyone even knew what was happening. They had often joked that if they ever stopped being rum runners, then they all had bright futures as pirate captains.

The battles were always hard fought and the war dragged on for a couple of years. The turning point came when Jamie Lannister lost a hand in one of the skirmishes. Still to this day every man in the north, at some point, claimed they were the one that had cut off it off. In all honesty though it had been such a melee that no one knew for sure who had actually done it or how. Soon after that the Seawolves had sunk enough southern ships to make the Lannisters and their allies retreat.

When the Lannisters finally went back south to lick their wounds, the boys finally left the sea, joining the Seawolf war council that had been called in White Harbor. Ned advocated punishing the Lannisters by cutting off their supply of goods. Everyone knew that would cripple them financially and ultimately result in a loss of most of their territory. Most didn’t think it severe enough. Days of heated arguments followed. There were quite a few that felt they should invade the south and finally destroy the greedy Lannister threat once and for all. Robb and Jon had fallen into that camp. Others like Baelish, sided with Ned, arguing it would be better to have the Lannisters in their debt rather than destroyed. Ned had the final say, and in the end he decided to show them mercy. He told them later that he had been swayed mostly due to the fact that Tywin had humbled himself and sent his daughter, Cersei, to beg for it. He told them that as long as they would abandon all of their plots to gain control of the smuggling routes, give back the territory they had taken and from this point on, go about their business in the south quietly, the Seawolves would not pursue them further.

Jon still often pondered why Ned had ultimately chosen mercy. A begging woman didn’t seem enough to him. The only conclusion he had ever come to was that perhaps Ned had just gotten tired of all the killing, he had been doing it for years after all. Jon wondered sometimes what Ned had thought of his choice. When a few years later he lay dying from a Lannister ambush, had he come to regret that choice of mercy?

With the decision final, they were all free to finally go home. Most of the senior members had been home on and off during what would later come to be known as the Sea-Lion War, he and Robb had not. So he had been quite surprised when he returned to Winterfell to find out how much Sansa had grown up. In fact, he almost didn’t recognize her. The two years had been more than kind to her. Changing her from a pretty girl who had preferred pigtails and braids into a beautiful woman with bright eyes and hair that reminded him of autumn leaves. All of her curves had grown in too. Jon had almost been ashamed of how attracted he had found her. But then he had reminded himself that even though they had grown up together, she was not in fact “his” sister.

He quickly got over the shame though, the attraction was just too strong to fight. Much of his energy over the next few months was spent trying to get to her to notice him in a certain manner. He wanted to see if she might feel the same as he did. He looked for every excuse to spend time with her. Blessedly, Ned had made it rather easy for him. Because despite the current ceasefire agreement, they always had enemies, someone looking to make a profit from them. So he insisted Sansa always have someone with her whenever she left the safety of Winterfell. Jon was always the first to volunteer to escort her on a variety of errands or any other place she wanted to go. He relished the fact that he’d been given the opportunity to instill himself as her main protector.

Jon had hoped that everyone would remain clueless on how he lusted after her, at least until he could figure out if she returned any of his feelings. Luckily most people dismissed his attentions as friendly or protective, but not Robb. He should’ve known that Robb would see him as the lusty bastard he was. He had pulled Jon aside one night and asked him exactly why he insisted on spending so much time alone with “their sister.” Jon had immediately shot back that she was not “his sister.” Robb had just smiled knowingly and warned him if he did anything to dishonor her or break her heart he would have his head. Then he had clapped him on the back and wished him good luck.

He needed it. As ridiculous as it was, Sansa actually made him nervous. He often would make cheeky comments to flirt a bit with her. He liked that he could make her blush. But on the rare occasions she would subtly flirt back, he would suddenly find himself nearly speechless. He had no problem risking his life on the sea. Or fighting a man with a knife in close proximity. Hell, when needed he could shoot someone in the head without hesitation, but trying to ask Sansa if she might like to go on an actual date with him made him feel like a young boy that needed to throw up. 

After several months he had finally told himself it was time to stop being a pussy and just ask her out. All this angst was going to ruin his edge if he let it go on any longer. And the morning he had decided today was the day, he was supposed to accompany Ned and Benjen on a run south. He decided to beg off so he’d have the chance to talk to Sansa. He would always wonder if that decision had saved him or doomed Ned. Thinking of it now he thought perhaps it had actually doomed them both.

He never got the chance to talk her about dates that day. Because it turned out the Lannisters had never intended to respect the peace agreement. They had spent their time since the cease fire regrouping and plotting. And that day they put their plan into action. They set and ambush just across the border between the north and south. Ned and Benjen were both murdered, run off the road and shot in a ditch. Their deaths created an immediate power vacuum in the northern alliance.

It was thought Robb or Theon would take over. However there was some dissent on the matter. Many of the veterans in the syndicate felt the boys were still too young and inexperienced to lead them. Especially since they were about to go to war with the Lannisters once more.

So none other than Petyr Baelish, offered to step in and run the operation. “Just until the boys are old enough and have enough experience to run it themselves,” he had insisted. Robb had never liked him. He and Theon had both tried to object, but Catelyn had stepped in. She sided with Petyr. She insisted they could trust him. She did, and he had been Ned’s third in command after all. If he promised to turn things over to the boys when everyone deemed them ready, then she saw no reason to doubt him. The boys didn’t like it, Jon included, but they decided to listen to Catelyn. They figured if anyone knew Ned’s wishes it would be her.  

However instead of drawing up battle plans and leading them into war, Baelish quickly looked to shore up his position by making a peace deal with the Lannisters. He told everyone he had a plan to stop the fighting. He just said he needed time to work out the details. Jon had found out by accident that his plan was actually to offer the Lannisters Sansa. He had hope that a marriage between the daughter of Ned Stark, a “princess” of the North, and the Lannister’s son, would put an end to the fighting and heal the rift between the families. After all, a marriage alliance would help insure that both families had a vested interest in keeping the peace, as well as sharing profits and power going forward.

Jon had been furious. He told no one though, instead deciding to start a plot for Petyr’s assassination. He would much rather go to war with half the country than allow anyone else to have Sansa.

But before he could act he found out the offer was being declined. It turned out he hadn’t been the only one aware of the possible alliance, the Tyrells, the second most powerful syndicate in the south, had somehow found out and had made their own offer to the Lannisters. The Lannisters decided that the Tyrell’s offer was more appealing. They didn’t want a partnership with the northerns, they wanted total control of the flow. All they needed to do was destroy the Seawolves and take control of their territory to have it.

Meanwhile with the Lannisters threatening from the south, some other small northern outfits started to get grand ideas that the Seawolves might be vulnerable to a hostile takeover. A few of the bolder ones started to stage raids on their shipments, stealing and reselling what they could. Sometimes those raids ended in shot outs with deaths on both sides.

Petyr quickly grew desperate to stop the bleeding of both men and alcohol. Especially when whispers within the syndicate started to circulate that it might be time to turn it over to Robb or Theon. And so Petyr made a bold decision. He promised everyone that he would bring the smaller outfits back into the fold.  He planned to do this by making peace with the challengers that had gained the most prominence, the Boltons. And his way of achieving this peace was to make a backroom bargain with the outfit’s head, Roose Bolton. He had taken several ranking members of the Seawolves loyal to him to meet with the Boltons. He had left Jon, Robb, Theon and anyone loyal to them in the dark. But he had assured Roose that all of the Seawolves were in support of their agreement.

It was complete lie, Petyr had not consulted anyone outside his inner circle. He agreed to make the Boltons a 25% partner. And to bind the deal and the two families together, he had offered Sansa up as a wife for Roose’s son. The Boltons accepted.

Jon had been livid. Robb was furious as well. Sansa was seventeen at the time. And while she was far from naïve about what her family did, she was still sweet and kind. And that gentle innocence was one of the things Jon liked most about her. Even if she were never to want him, he knew it was wrong to sell her off like she was a brood mare.

But there was little the boys could do to stop it. To go back on the agreement now would divide the syndicate when they could least afford it. Additionally, it would invite the Boltons’ wrath and word would spread that the Seawolves were not men of their word. That would only serve to weaken their current and future alliances.

Robb and Theon had seen no other option than to accept it. Robb had talked to Sansa and Cat about it and they had both agreed she would do what the family needed. Jon hadn’t cared though. He had gone to her and told her if she wanted, he would take her from this place. He’d leave everything behind, flee with her to Essos or Thar a Bhalla. He’d take her anywhere if that was what she wished. When she told him there was no way she’d put them all in that kind of danger, he had offered to kill Petyr. Surely Robb could call off the deal once he took over. Sansa had refused, begging him not to do anything that would only get more people killed, himself included. Initially he refused, but when she had started to cry and plead with him, he had finally relented, promising her he won’t interfere.

He had remained furious though. The day after Sansa turned eighteen, her things were packed, and she was sent to off to marry Ramsay Bolton.  Jon had gone out that same night, getting piss drunk at a speak-easy and then beating a man nearly to death when the man had bumped him too hard in the bar. He only escaped arrest because the cop on the beat that night was on their payroll.

Jon knew if Ramsay had been a good kind husband to her, things would’ve turned out much differently. They had all attended the wedding. Jon had stood in the back of the church watching her bind herself to another man for the good of the family. He had watched without really seeing. All he had seen were visions of shooting the place up and absconding with her, or better yet, burning the place to the ground, with everyone not named Stark or Greyjoy, locked inside.

After the wedding, Sansa wrote her family once every couple of weeks, but she was not allowed to visit them. Her letters did not seem natural to Jon. The choice of words, the cadence, none of it seemed like the Sansa he had known. When he voiced a concern, he was told marriage changes people. He didn’t believe marriage could change her that much.

Petyr constantly reassured all of them she was fine, that she was happy and well cared for. She was just busy trying to settle in to her new life. He said he and Roose thought it best to give the newlyweds time to get to know each other. Jon didn’t believe him and found the whole idea sickening. So six months into her marriage, under the guise of trying to set up new contacts in the south, he went to check on her.

He could still recall how he had watched the house, waiting on Ramsay to leave. How he gone around the back of the house to knock on the backdoor so no one would report a visitor. And how he had frozen when he caught sight of her in the backyard tending to her garden. She hadn’t seen him, at least that is what he had thought at the time. So he had slunk back into the high hedges and watched her. She moved gingerly, startling when the door banged on the house next door. She had a fresh black eye and a split lip. He recalled how his blood had turned to fire then, boiling with righteous fury. He had sworn right then and there, on both his mother and Ned Stark’s souls, that he would not allow this to go on for one more day.

He decide not to reveal himself to her then, instead slinking off and waiting for Ramsay to come home that night. He had watched and waited for hours, like a wolf stalking its prey.

Shortly after midnight he silently broke into the house. As if an answer to his prayers, Sansa had still been awake, sitting in the dark kitchen drinking tea and quietly wiping tears from her eyes.

She stopped crying when she looked at him. Her expression was hard to read. In some ways it was if she was seeing a ghost, and yet she didn’t necessarily seem surprised to find him there. “I knew you’d come tonight,” she whispered.

“How?”

“I saw you earlier today.”

“Why didn’t you –“

“Are you here to kill him?” she whispered as their eyes locked. Something passed between them in that moment. Jon hadn’t moved, he just held her gaze. She had given him the faintest of smiles then. “He’s in the room at the left end of the hall,” she said.

He moved in front of her and then bent down and kissed her forehead gently. His hand lingered on her cheek. He felt as if he was drowning in her eyes. He let the sensation swallow him. Finally he nodded and left the room.

He had gone upstairs and after entering the room silently, he had stood and watched Ramsay sleep for a while. He looked like a smug bastard even in his sleep. Jon couldn’t help but think how satisfying it would be to tie the man up and make him watch as he reclaimed Sansa. He wanted nothing more than to show Ramsay that he was the one she truly belonged to. He doubted Sansa would agree to such a display, but the idea still made him almost hard.

Ramsay had started to stir then, almost if he had sensed Jon’s intentions. He awoke and sat up, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Jon had put a bullet in his head. He slumped back against the headboard immediately. It was a far cleaner death than he deserved, but Jon hadn’t wanted to take any chances he might escape or somehow hurt Sansa. Even now when he recalls standing there and watching the blood spread over the white starched sheets, it gives him a sense of triumph and joy. He’d killed men before and he’d killed men after, but no other death had ever given him as much satisfaction as Ramsay Bolton’s.

He couldn’t recall how long he had been standing there before he had felt Sansa slid her hand into his.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she stared down at the bloody mess.

“I would’ve come sooner if I had known.”

“In the end you came, that’s all that matters.”

They had packed her bags then and fled together. They both knew there would be hell to pay for this once Ramsay’s body was found, but neither of them had cared. He knew he would stay on the run with her forever if needed. But he knew he would kill for her again if it came to that.

They went as far north as they could without crossing the border, taking refuge in an abandoned cottage there. It was a place Jon remember from when he was younger. It had once been a safe house used by the Starks. The only people still alive, outside of him, that knew it existed, were Robb and Theon. He knew they would likely guess that he had been the one to kill Ramsay. But he also knew they were unlikely to come looking for him or Sansa, less they put them in harm’s way. Jon hoped that perhaps they would be able to convince everyone that Ramsay’s death had been part of the newly declared turf war between the Boltons and the Mormonts. Perhaps if were truly clever they could weave a story in which Ramsay had been assassinated and Sansa had either been either killed or kidnapped and then get everyone to believe it was the Lannisters to blame.

They stayed hidden in the cabin for over six months before Theon had come for them. And it had been a glorious six months. Much to his surprise and delight, when they first arrived there Sansa had asked if he would mind sleeping in the same bed with her. He had no intention of saying no, but he had asked her why all the same. She told him it brought her comfort to know he would be so close. He had of course agreed. In the end it was the best for both of them. It fulfilled his desire to be close to her, but more importantly he could immediately comfort her when she woke from a nightmare scared and sobbing. He would always take her in his arms and remind her that Ramsay was dead, that he himself had pulled the trigger and spilled his blood. He promised over and over that no one would ever touch her or harm her again. Thankfully her nightmare had disappeared after the first few weeks.

They had continued to share a bed even after the nightmares had ended. She never had asked him to leave it and he had never considered offering. He knew it was rather selfish, but he still wanted her just as much as he had before she’d been sent off. However he knew enough to know he’d have to be patience with her after what she’d been through with Ramsay. So he had started slow. Under the guise of sleep, he’d snuggle into her. Eventually he started to place his hands in inappropriate places just as she began to wake. He’d pretend to still be asleep when she would gently move them away. But over time she became more and more comfortable with it, slower to move his hands somewhere more appropriate.

One morning halfway into their stay there he had pretended to be having a dream. He had started to rut against her and kiss at her neck and shoulder. She hadn’t really been awake when she started to respond back, turning her head to kiss him back, moaning and waking when he had slid his hand between her legs.

When he was sure she was fully awake, and yet was still moaning and rutting into his hand, he had opened his eyes and met hers. She had breathed his name and ground harder into his hand and his fingers continued to slide in and out of her. He doubted that Ramsay had ever given her any pleasure.

“I want to make you come,” he had murmured into her ear. She had whined and then pulled her nightgown up. He lowered his head and captured her nipple in his mouth and teased it with his tongue and teeth. He quickened the pace of his fingers, his thumb joining in the dance, rubbing against exact spot that he knew would make her peak.

It hadn’t taken him long to bring her off. She had gasped what he thought was his name as her hips bucking up and a wave of warmth flooded into his hand. He had held her afterwards, resisting every urge to bury his harden cock inside her.

The next morning he had done much the same. His hands sliding under her nightgown, touching her between in her thighs and caressing her breasts. Only this time when she pulled her gown up he had moved lower and he had used his mouth to bring her off. He had been rather proud of the way she had sobbed his name this time as she tried to rip his curls from his head.

The following morning she had finally begged him to be inside her. He had been more than happy to give her what she asked. From that day forward he had started almost every day by fucking her. Sometimes it was sweet and gentle, where he would take his time and linger over her and her orgasms. And sometimes it was hot and demanding. He’d hold her down or take her from behind, commanding her to tell him who she belonged to, who she’d always belong to.

The first time they had done it like that he hadn’t even meant to be so possessive and demanding, the moment had just gotten away from him. But there had been something about looking down on her like that, watching as his cock disappeared into her, claiming her as his over and over, that had just made him insane. He had grabbed her hair and she had moaned in such a way that he had known she liked it too. Afterwards he had asked her if it had upset her. The last thing he wanted was for her to tell him he couldn’t touch her anymore. She had assured him it was fine, she actually enjoyed his attention, of feeling like she belonged to him and he therefore would protect her at all costs.

He never thought he could love something as much as he loved her. And he never felt more alive or happy than when he was moving inside her. He swore seeing her come was like seeing the face of god. 

He happily could’ve stayed in that cabin with her forever. He no longer cared about the comforts of wealth. Living off the land and fucking Sansa senseless until his dying day would’ve been just fine with him. That was the reason that he hadn’t been all that happy to see Theon on their doorstep a couple of months later.

“It’s safe to come home now,” he had told them. “Robb killed Petyr a few weeks back. He’s the head of the whole outfit now.”

“He what?” Sansa had asked. She knew all of them were killers, but rarely did they turn on their own.

“Well if the rumors are to be believed your mother and him actually planned it together.”

“Rumors?” Jon said raising an eyebrow.

“A lot has happened since you took this little sabbatical.”

“Care to fill us in?” Jon asked.

“The short version is that it came to Cat’s attention that ol’ Pete had made a deal with the Lannisters to take Ned out. So Cat was more than willing to see that he paid the price. I’ll spare you most of the sorted details, but I believe he was rather disappointed to find Robb in that dark bed instead of Cat. Robb said nothing felt better than watching the light go out of his beady little eyes.”

“And what about the Boltons?” Sansa had asked. “I can’t imagine they were just willing to forgive and forget.”

“Actually, they say they are. Ramsay was a well-known shit. Roose said we likely did him a favor.”

“So they don’t want any type of retribution?”

“Says they don’t. Says Ramsay isn’t worth anyone else’s blood. So long as they keep getting their 25% cut, he’s fine letting the past be the past.”

It had taken a little more cajoling, but after a couple more days, Theon convinced them it was time for them to go home. They took a couple days to pack up and then they headed south.

When they finally arrived in Winterfell they found the place in chaos. Two days prior, Cat and Robb had been invited to attend the wedding of one of Walder Frey’s daughters. A celebration of love and fidelity that was supposed to double as a celebration of a new partnership Robb had brokered between themselves, the Boltons and the Freys. Unfortunately it had turned out the only true alliance was the one exclusively between the Boltons and the Freys. They had lured Cat and Robb outside the reception hall and murdered them in cold blood. They were now organizing to take over the Starks’ territory and operations.

Jon had worried Sansa would be reduced to hysterics or catatonia. Their time alone together in the north had almost made him forget that she was a woman much changed from her harsh marriage. No matter what he wanted to see, she was no longer the sweet innocent girl that she had been the last time she had been in Winterfell. She had transformed into a hardened warrior woman, one that demanded swift and final justice.

Jon was more than eager to offer it to her. Since it was rumored that he was either dead or had fled to Essos, it was easy for him to move about the north almost undetected. Within a few days he had reached out to the Freefolk Syndicate from north of the border, explaining that if the Freys or Boltons seized the routes they would be looking at increased violence and less profits. Theon called upon all the men in the shipping fleet. Before the week ran out they had organized a large-scale assault on the other two families. They began the attacks at noon. Hitting several of their locations. It was a brutal twelve-hour period of ambushes and double crosses. But by the time the clock struck midnight that night, they had laid complete waste to the both the Boltons and the Freys.

He could still recall the way Sansa had looked at him when he had come to her in the small hours of the morning, covered in the blood of those who had wronged them. How despite being covered in the blood of Walder Frey and Roose Bolton, she had smiled at him and kissed him deeply when he had told her it was done.

She had thanked him softly and told him she would like to repay him by helping him bathe and dress his wounds. He had been exhausted, but he had agreed. For a brief moment she seemed to have turned back into sweet innocent Sansa, humming softly as she washed him.

He had exited the tub after, turning his back to her to dry off. When he turned back around to grab his fresh clothes, he found her standing there, stripped naked. She told him she wanted nothing more in that moment than for him to fuck her. He had agreed without a second thought.  He would do anything she asked or commanded. He’d burn down the entire world if she asked, and he just had spent much of the day doing almost exactly that. She was his reward and he enjoyed every moment of it.

The next morning in front of all their remaining forces she had declared him “The White Wolf,” and the new head of the outfit. Until she said the words he hadn’t realized how much he had actually wanted it. He had long wanted her, but he had never thought about running the syndicate. As the last remaining Stark it belonged to her. No one questioned her decision though. Probably because they had all just seen exactly what he was capable of. Admittedly he liked the thought of having so much power, and if Sansa thought he had earned it, who was he to question her? So he accepted it without protest.

In all honesty though, he had known they would ran the outfit together. Jon was happy to help her keep what was hers. She had been smart, she knew most of the major players would not accept a woman being in charge. In public she was his most trusted advisor, behind closed doors it was her outfit.

And that was how he now found himself here, in this truck almost to the docks of Gulltown. The beginnings of tonight had been her idea; the execution of it was to be his gift to her. The Lannisters were the last piece of the puzzle. With their extinction they would finally have vengeance for all the members of their family that had been taken from them.

The plan had been months in the making. It had all started with planting a rumor that there was a rift starting to grow between the Greyjoys and the Starks. Intentionally they had started to slow their shipments down in order to make it appear as if supply was getting held up as the two sides squabbled. The next rumor to spread was that the Freefolk were growing tired of the drama. It was cutting down on their profits after all. As a result they were looking to make a deal with another outfit that would help increase their profits and finally end the Stark dominance over the supply routes.

In reality, the Greyjoys and Starks were as closely aligned as ever, working together to destroy the Lannisters. The Freefolk had been paid a generous amount to arrange a meeting with the Lannisters in Gulltown. They had even promised them a shipment of ale meant for the Starks as a sign of goodwill. It had taken months of careful planning and persistence, but the Lannisters had finally agreed to the meeting.

They had parked the truck nearby and made their way through the streets on foot to the warehouse at the docks where the meeting was supposed to take place.  It was a gamble, they all knew it. There was nothing to stop the Freefolk from turning on them and selling them out to the Lannisters, should they so desired. Jon just hoped that the years of history between them, and the newly brokered agreement to pay them more for the booze, would keep them firmly on the Starks’ side.

They kept far enough back, watching as the Lannisters filed into the warehouse. He had to give it to Tormund, he had been insistent that no deal would be brokered unless all the ranking members of the family were there. He had told them he didn’t want to be double crossed or have one of the senior members decide to void the agreement after because they weren’t present and didn’t agree.

That was the one of the reason it had taken months to make this happen. The Lannisters had been resistance to putting all their leadership in one place at one time. But here they were now, their greed having finally seemed to have gotten the better of them.

Jon and his men waited for everyone to be inside and the doors to be pulled shut. Once the door rolled shut, they began to move closer.

The Lannisters had left a few guards outside. Luckily they were easy enough to dispatch using silencers and the Freefolk guards.

The group was at the edge of the building now. Since it was supposed to be a peaceful negotiation between the two groups inside, everyone had been asked to disarm themselves. Jon was not foolish enough to think they had completely left all their weapons behind, but his hope was they were well enough hidden that the delay in pulling them would give them enough of an advantage to take them out.

He peered through a small window in the door. Most of the Lannisters had their backs to the door. The Freefolk stood in front of them, behind a line of large metal drums. The Lannisters believed them to be filled with ale. Jon waited patiently for the signal from Tormund.  

Finally after what seemed like forever, he saw Tormund tug his beard. Jon flicked his lighter once to alert everyone outside it was go time. A moment later the door flew up and they stepped into the room, machine guns spraying wildly. The Freefolk had dropped behind the wall of barrels. Barrels that had been fortified specifically for this meeting.

The gunfire swiftly cut through the Lannisters. The entire thing was over in mere minutes. When the smoke cleared, the inside of the warehouse looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood ran in rivers towards the drains. They had lost a few of their own men, Tywin and Cersi had both been able to get off a couple of rounds before Jon had managed to put a bullet in his forehead and one in her heart.

“Suppose we need to get this all cleaned up before the cops happen by.” Tormund said tying off a tourniquet on the man next to him.

“You’d suppose right. Edd told me he’ll do what he can to hold them back for as long as he can, but there were no guarantees on how long that would be.”

“Well let’s get to it then.”

Working together as quickly as possible, they hastily dismembered the bodies and stuffed them into the empty drums. Theon used a hose to spray out the floors. It was messy and disgusting work, but it had to be done. Leaving the bodies and all that evidence was no way to ensure their safety. His hope was that whoever stepped into the power vacuum they had just created in the south would be grateful to the Starks for giving them the opening. Not that he ever planned for them to take actually take credit for the massacre.

They finished loading the drums on to the Freefolks’ boats. Just as they finished they heard the sirens. A quick glance at the horizon revealed police lights headed in their direction.

They all said a hasty goodbye. The boat pulled away from the dock as Jon, Theon, Davos and the others made their way back to where they had hidden the trucks. Once they were certain the police were thoroughly occupied with the bullet riddled warehouse, they drove off into the night.

xxxxxx

They reached Winterfell just as dawn was breaking. Jon was exhausted despite having dozed a bit on the drive back.

They had ditched the original trucks at a chop shop near the Twins, driving the rest of the way in two old beat up sedans. The sedans would be torn down for parts by nightfall.

Sansa has seen them pulling in and was waiting on the porch when they exited the sedans. He crossed the yards and stood before her.

“Is it done?” she asked.

“It’s is. We lost a couple of good men, but it’s done.”

“Did they know it was us?”

“I think Tywin and Cersi realized it at the last moment, clearly they were not pleased.”

“No I won’t imagine they would be……” A ghost of a smile sat on her lips. “Come inside. Nan made breakfast. You all need to get cleaned up, and burn those clothes.”

They followed her in. The rest of the men discarded any clothing with blood on it in the entry way and then went into the dining room in their underwear after grabbing a plate from the kitchen. Jon grabbed two pieces of toast and Sansa’s hand and pulled her towards the stairs.

When they got upstairs he closed the door to their room and removed his dark coat and shirt.

“Jon,” she gasped.

“It’s a through and through. I’ll be fine, but can you clean it for me?”

“Of course.”

She set to work cleaning out the wound that lay where his arm met his shoulder. This was far from the first bullet hole she had cleaned. She voiced how impressed she was that it had missed all his bones or arteries.

“You’re lucky it was small caliber,” she said as she started to bandage it. “Cersi?”

He laughed. “Sansa dear, do you really imagine her having the smallest gun there?” Sansa had shook her head, laughing at her misjudgment. “I have no idea who it was, but I can promise you it was not Cersi.”

She finished bandaged it up and kissed him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled away.

“You know I’d do anything to see you happy and safe.”

“I know. It’s one of the reasons I love you so.”

He drew her into his lap and untied her robe. “I think we were right about here before I left.”

“Are you sure this is wise? Clean exit or not, you still lost a fair amount of blood.”

“Don’t worry, I still have enough blood to make it work.”

She laughed as he attacked her shoulder and neck, moaning as he slid a hand up her thigh. God how he loved to fuck her, but he really loved the idea of fucking after he had killed someone for her. She gave him a look that seemed to indicate she felt the same way. How he loved when she read his filthy mind.

They fought their way to the bed, tongues and teeth clashing together and fighting for purchase. They tore at each other clothes and collapsed on the bed as soon as they were both bare. They tussled further. In the end he let her win. He now happily lay beneath her, his hands gripping her hips tightly. She hovered over him straddling his hips as she smiled down at him.

“Tell me what you did,” Sansa demanded as she scratched his abs lightly.

“I killed them, I killed the Lannisters,” he answered, his voice deep and full of lust.

“Tell me why.” She leaned forward so she could pin his arms to the bed. She leaned even closer, until she was mere inches from his face, her hair falling in a curtain around them.

“You know why,” he said harshly.

“Say it,” she hissed and then bit his lip.

“You. I killed them all for you,” he snarled. “I’d kill anyone for you, for us.”

She kissed him then, hot and hard. He broke her grip on his wrists and quickly grabbed her waist, flipping them so he was on top. He pinned her wrists above her head and hurriedly sank into her.

“I’d burn the whole fucking world down for you if you asked it,” he growled and grunted as he drove himself into her at a feverish pace.

She bucked and moaned. Her legs wrapping around him tightly. He released her arms and she grabbed for him, nails raking up his back. He hissed and slowed when she grazed too close to the bullet wound. For a moment with the frenzy broken, she placed a tender kiss on his shoulder. He took a breath and cupped her cheek.

“I love you,” he sighed.

“I love you too.” She drew him forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. When he pulled back he gave her a gentle smile. “Now make me come,” she commanded.

He laughed and then began his relentless assault again. Shortly after she tensed and broke apart beneath him, nearly sobbing his name. He imagined most of the others in the house had probably heard her. He didn’t care though, this was a day to celebrate and rejoice.

He spent soon after and collapsed to her side. He knew his shoulder was bleeding again, but he didn’t care. Not when he and Sansa where pressed together in a satisfied sweaty mess. He hoped she felt the same because he could see where some of his blood had smeared across her pale creamy skin.

Eventually he got up to change the bandage and confirm the bleeding had once again stopped. He stood with his back to her as he sponged the wound.

“It’s sad you know,” she said.

“What?” he asked turning back to her, concern clear on his face.

“That this can’t just be the end of all the wars, all the killing. You know eventually there will be new challengers, more wars to fight.”

“I know,” he said meeting her eyes. “But always remember what I told you. I’ll keep us safe. I will protect you. Always. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I have to say while this was fun to write it was also felt a bit out of my comfort zone for some reason. But I liked the challenge of pushing myself to try something new. Perhaps it was complete trash, but hopefully some of you enjoyed it. 
> 
> There is a picture collage on tumblr if you're interested. Come say hi @jrojoyce.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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